“Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.”

“How do most people live without any thought? There are many people in the world,--you must have noticed them in the street,--how do they live? How do they get strength to put on their clothes in the morning?”

“Not knowing when the dawn will comeI open every door.”

“It was a quiet way -He asked if I was his -I made no answer of the tongueBut answer of the eyes -And then He bore me onBefore this mortal noiseWith swiftness, as of Chariotsand distance, as of Wheels.This World did drop awayAs acres from the feetof one that leaneth from BalloonUpon an Ether Street.The Gulf behind was not,The Continents were new -Eternity was due.No Seasons were to us -It was not Night nor Morn -But Sunrise stopped upon the placeAnd Fastened in Dawn.”

“The sun just touched the morning; The morning, happy thing, Supposed that he had come to dwell, And life would be all spring.”

“It was not death, for I stood up,And all the dead lie down;It was not night, for all the bellsPut out their tongues, for noon.It was not frost, for on my fleshI felt siroccos crawl,Nor fire, for just my marble feetCould keep a chancel cool.And yet it tasted like them all;The figures I have seenSet orderly, for burial,Reminded me of mine,As if my life were shavenAnd fitted to a frame,And could not breathe without a key;And I was like midnight, some,When everything that ticked has stopped,And space stares, all around,Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,Repeal the beating ground.But most like chaos,--stopless, cool,Without a chance or spar,--Or even a report of landTo justify despair.”

“You cannot put a fire out!A thing that can ignite can go itself-without a flame-E'en through the darkest night!”